Thunderous words break as
the sky clears after a rain.
Everything's okay.
The grass bends, trampled
by the very waves of wind
that carry it's seed.
The green ones, waiting,
watch their yellow neighbors drop
orange leaves at their feet.
The pumpkin patch had
all the space it needed. But
it wasn't enough.
Ice cream doesn't melt
quite so fast this time of year.
Why not have extra?
In an over-sized
sweater and pigtails, she walked
the path before me.
Secondary themes
of the pumpkin show are grease,
trash piles, and God.
I just remembered
what this looks like in winter.
Snow replaces leaves.
An eagle hang-dries
wet wings as he perches, still,
on a traffic light.
Good luck, friend. Defeat
the seagull who steals french-fries
on the patio.
The redbud leaves mock
the angled pour of steamed milk
into latte mugs.
The wind Venturis
through stiff branches like children
running through a crowd.